Christmas and the Wealth of Tradition--Part 2

“The things that we do regularly, that cause us in our deepest being to know and love and want God—to have our lives infiltrated by God—those things are traditions.”

- Noel Piper

They sit together on the creaky tan recliner and my Mama lights a candle . . . lights a candle for the fourth, the fifth, the sixth time. And little Debbie all aglow, perched on her lap, listens to my Mama sing to her, again and again and again-- “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright . . .” And my daughter holds the ornament that my Mom bought in a consignment shop, the globe of thick glass enveloping Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus inside, looped with a thin gold string for hanging on the Christmas tree.

Every night, my Mama sings with Debbie, and they light candle after candle after candle . . . and Debbie holds her treasured ornament. My Mama wanted Debbie to recognize the song when we sang it at the Christmas Eve service on December 24th . . . to recognize the candle and to one day realize that the light we hold symbolizes Jesus, the Light of the world, who came to bring the light of the glory of God into this dark world of sin.

So they sing together, Debbie listening intently, her eyes transfixed on the candle, her soft little child-hands holding the representation of the holy family. And even though she doesn’t understand it all now, the repetition seeps into her tiny heart and one day it will all mean something to her—

Repetition . . . Elisabeth Elliot once wisely pointed out in one of her books that repetition is never forbidden in the Word of God, only vain repetition. Because we remember by doing . . . over and over and over. We remember by repeating the same truth, the same act, the same memory verse. We remember. When we light the Advent wreath year after year after year, it helps us to remember, to recall, to cherish the ancient truths that each candle symbolizes. When we hang a Christmas wreath on our front door, we think of the beautiful new life that God has given to us through His precious Son, the verdant green reminding us of hope in the midst of winter. When we sing the wonderful old carols, the Christmas hymns, the ones that we grew up on and learned by heart, something fresh springs forth in our souls—the seed of remembrance shoots forth and the repetition of those truths year after year ministers to our redeemed beings.

Maybe this is why we are instructed to remember “the Lord’s death until He comes” by taking Communion, whether it be month by month or less or more frequently. We shouldn’t “need” to physically eat and drink a representation of the Lord’s body and blood, and yet, our God commands it. Why? Because we remember through repetition, through the act of doing—not legalistically, but joyfully, in contemplative love. We remember the great depths of His love and the sacrifice of His only Son. Through repetition, we remember.

And we have our own traditions that we keep in our homes and with our families. Some read the Christmas story together on Christmas day or on Christmas Eve. Some eat certain special foods—maybe a recipe that has been in the family for years, that has been passed on through generations. Some decorate their Christmas tree on a certain day. Some share memories of Christmases past or watch A Christmas Carol.

It’s important for a family to establish their own traditions, whether borrowed from someone else, whether concocted or hatched on their own. And they should be fun and meaningful, but ultimately Christ-centered—not just “family-centered,” but Christ centered. Because if Christ is our life, then His presence, His influence should pervade all that we do and say. Let our traditions be festive and full of laughter and brimming over with the grace and hope of our Savior.

It’s also important for a family to establish traditions that are rooted in Christ because this bonds a Christian family together, brings a warmth that finds it’s center in Jesus, and brings glory to Him. It is a way for a family to magnify the Lord together, through meaningful traditions that bring joy to our souls and impart grace to our hearts.

As Noel Piper says in her book Treasuring God in our Traditions, there are “especially times,” times when we pause and stop and reflect and remember an event in a special, out of the ordinary way—like Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving. When we fail to make these events special and meaningful and Christ-centered, in whatever way that the Holy Spirit leads us, we lose something of their significance and importance in our lives. We remember Christ’s birth in a special way, because it holds such significance for us as believers. Christmas is not an ordinary day.

So let what Dickens says of Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, be true of us--“And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!” May we keep Christmas well, also, in the thoughts and contemplations of our hearts and through the traditions that help us to turn those hearts towards Him. At Christmas and at every “especially time,” for the glory of Jesus and the joy of our hearts.

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Christmas and the Wealth of Tradition

Eternal Love, warm and new and ancient and beautiful, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger . . . the Lamb of the ages, helpless and scented with fresh-birth and sweet straw and the clear, thin scent of the cold night air. And He is Emmanuel, God with us, God with His people, the Firstborn of Creation with the late-born of men.

He is here, in our hearts, His presence within us, His presence all around us, His presence speaking to us through His creation. We light a candle. The lovely glimmer of light for remembrance. We remember and we are hushed and His presence is with us—not through the candle, but the candle helps us to remember. Helps us to remember, because we so easily forget and are burdened, heavy-weighed with the stresses and the visiting and the baking and the relatives and the bustle of the season. Helps us to quiet our hurrying hearts and remember.

And I think of the film The Nativity Story and the wise man bending low before the tiny King and offering his myrrh of remembrance, the myrrh that speaks of the Sacrifice yet to be made—a tangible symbol of what is to come, the anointing of His body for burial after the crucifixion. Symbols, remembrances. We are human and so easily forget. Sometimes in His compassion towards us, the Lord provides a symbol, a means to help us to remember.

We don’t need the Advent wreath, the poinsettias, the Nativity scene so gently and lovingly placed in our homes, the lights, the crisp green wreaths, the carols playing in our cars, the meaningful Advent hymns sung in our churches. But they may help us to remember. And we so easily forget. Forget what Christmas is all about—the King of glory coming down to us in innocence and holy light and dwelling among us. God with us; Glory with us—to the praise of His glory.

One of the Christmas traditions that sticks in my mind is the Christmas Eve service in the church of my childhood. At the very end of the service, the lights were dimmed and we each held a candle and sang "Silent Night" with our brothers and sisters. And our hearts were hushed in that quiet country church and we remembered together that silent night long ago when the Sacrifice lay in a crude manger and came in humility, mainly unnoticed by the world at large.

A small number compared to the vast armies of men and women celebrating materialism and “good cheer” and “giving” at parties and in homes around the world, but we gathered around the Sacrifice, gathered quietly, as they did so many years ago. We gathered quietly and we sang reverently and we pondered afresh what the Almighty had done for our souls. And we brought Him glory and wonder, as the Wise Men did, and we brought Him adoration and reverence, as the shepherds did, and we layed our souls low before Him, the Humble God-Man who was and is and is to come.

And we quietly left the sanctuary and our hearts were hushed and our spirits were lifted and we went our separate ways to our homes and we slept in our beds that are not straw but are warm and comfortable and we thought of the One for Whom we lighted a candle. And we thought of the light that burns brightly in our hearts, the Spirit of Truth and Grace, the One that the world will not receive, but by His grace and mercy, we have received.

Symbols are not necessary, but they are important. They leave visual pictures in our minds and impress upon us the importance of certain events, people, days, times. The lighting of a candle, the meaning behind the candy cane, the names of Jesus--“Lamb,” the “Good Shepherd,” the Rod of Jesse, the King of Kings—all evoking vivid pictures- symbols, of our Lord.

The symbols are not to be worshiped, but they help us to worship the One whom they represent. They help us to remember. They help us to pause and to think and to wonder. We are not bound by tradition, but tradition touches us, touches our souls and preserves something of the sacred surrounding certain events. Tradition keeps something for us, keeps the wonder, the significance, holds the key to meaning; tradition is not the meaning itself, but a means.

This is one of the reasons that I enjoy J.R.R. Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings so much—his books are full of symbolism and wonder and imagination—so many things in them remind me of truths in the Scriptures and I think that the Lord allowed this for a reason—that even a fictional story can be used to point to the one True Story. And this is just what symbols can do--point us to truth.

Next Week: Part 2

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Why We Celebrate Christmas

The line was really long--

The kind of line that you try to avoid--

The kind of line that you get stuck in because you have two coupons that you want to use and they expire today. 

So you're stuck in a line and you're tapping your foot and glancing at your watch and eavesdropping in on the conversations around you. 

And the girl behind me was frustrated --there with her grandmother--her grandmother who understood little English--and the girl spoke under her breath--

Why do we celebrate the holidays anyway? To give presents? Isn't that what birthdays are for? 

And I heard her words, her flung-out words into that store and they shook me.

Because it suddenly struck me that many in the younger generation don't even understand what Christmas is all about anymore. 

We live in a society where Jesus has been so carefully and subtly removed that the holidays don't signify what they once did, even 50 years ago. 

Not that the whole of society had a saving relationship with the Lord, but, as a whole, I think that we understood the why of Christmas a little more clearly. 

And the Enemy has so distracted our minds and our hearts in these days that many, many don't even understand why we stop and remember--

Remember the little Baby in the manger, remember the hush of that night long ago, the glow of angel's breath in the chill air, the wonder and the beauty of the Son of God come to earth. 

For all mankind. 

Mankind who has now forgotten Him, forgotten why He came, even forgotten that He came. 

How do we tell them? 

How do we tell our neighbors and our friends and those we come into contact with that He came, touch their hearts with the message of Christmas, of our Savior's birth.

By living the truth of His coming.

In whatever sphere He has placed us--

Living before our children, before our relatives, before our friends and neighbors, before Him. 

Making a conscious effort to place the Messiah at the center of our celebrations, of our rejoicing, of our cooking, baking, shopping--

Living in an uncluttered, undistracted way that points ourselves and others to Jesus. 

This will look different in different people's lives--but in every believer's life will be authentic, life giving, joy-offering. 

He can teach us and give us the grace to do it. 

So that others may know--

Why we celebrate Christmas. 

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Jesus is Enough . . . Easter Memories and Mercies

We sat there together on the chalky white bench.

Chips of paint peeling off and dropping like ants to the ground. 

Londie and I . . . sisters in our freshly-pressed Easter clothes, squeaky new shoes on our feet. 

We always wore our new church shoes on Easter Day. 

My Mom would take us to the old Ames, or to Ann and Hope, and we would pick out shoes for Easter -- shoes that we would be able to wear to church through the summer. 

I remember the white patent leather and trying not to let my new shoes get any black smudges on them. 

We were so excited . . . 

Easter was so special to us . . . 

The Day of Resurrection, of joy, of hope after the long days of Winter. 

A Day to celebrate our Risen Lord and the glory that He has shed abroad in our hearts. 

I remember my Mama's face shining in church, the hope in her eyes as she sang the beautiful Easter hymns with gusto. My Mama loved much . . . and loves much still . . . 

My Mom and sister, Londie--shortly after my Mom became a Christian

And my sister, Londie, so full of spunk and like a little mother to me, always helping, always encouraging, always guiding without bossing, her voice scratchy and strong, singing the hymns, too. 

And then little Lishy, her tiny, short legs swinging in the church pew, her long hair tumbling down around her big, lovely, searching eyes.  

Finally, me, smack in the middle -- frizzy dark hair wisping around my face -- my aspirations in those days mainly limited to trying to imitate Sandy Patti, and getting to act the part of "Laura" in all of our Little House on the Prairie imaginary play. 

We would go home to the crispy browned ham and to the lovely round rolls and to our earlier-opened Easter baskets. And desserts would be at Auntie's -- all the wealth and fanfare of an Italian family's delicious sweet spread. 

Easter was so special . . . 

My Mom, beforehand, would prepare her "Easter bread," a huge anise-flavored braid, shiny and decadently-festooned with bright Easter eggs all colored and tucked in to its creases all around. 

And we would cut huge chunks of it and revel in all of its bready goodness. 

We didn't have much, but we had Jesus, and He is enough. 

Easter was special and Jesus risen and our hearts glad . . . 

The glory of our hearts and the light of our eyes -- a time for celebration and rejoicing -- a time to delight in His precious gift of life. 

A time to shout for joy in our hearts and to wear our new shoes and to proclaim that He is risen indeed . . . 

For He is . . .